


Candela

by Neurotoxia



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/pseuds/Neurotoxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas was Tseng's worst nightmare and Reno's greatest joy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candela

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the FFVII X-Mas Yaoi anthology "Crisis Carols" which you can download at http://proj-ff7xmas.livejournal.com/2937.html for free. There's fic, art and comics with a bunch of different pairings made by many great artists and writers; you should definitely go check it out!
> 
> Disclaimer: FFVII and its characters belong to Square Enix, only the writing is mine.

# Candela

Dread.

 

Today's noun of his 'Word of the Day' calendar in the kitchen exactly described how Tseng felt about going to work this morning. Precisely once a year he would think about calling in sick under false pretenses. When he absolutely did not want to set foot into Shinra Tower. The day of the annual Christmas party.

 

Tseng frowned at his calendar as if it were responsible for his misery. Once again his eyes wandered to the telephone in the hall, still contemplating the possibility of a spontaneous case of flu.

 

 _As if..._

 

He sighed resignedly, put his tea cup in the dishwasher and straightened his tie. Faking illness was not an option for the leader of the Turks. Even more so when others knew he had been fine the night before.

 

Tseng removed his suit jacket from the hanger, zipped it up and checked his attire one last time in the mirror before dressing in an additional winter coat, wrapping a scarf around his neck and leaving his apartment on the top floor of one of Shinra's high class buildings.

 

He hoped to be alone in the elevator. Being stuck in a closed space with neighbors you could not stand was taxing even on good days. Today, Tseng would most likely contemplate shooting the first inhabitant of the building who muttered so much as a 'Good morning'. Thankfully for him and the others, he was on his own the whole way down to the underground carpark. Turning the heat on maximum, Tseng drove his sleek sports car out on Midgar's still dark streets. Throughout the last weeks it had been snowing heavily and the whole city was covered in a thick layer of white powdery snow flakes.  With the additional Christmas lights adorning the main streets, even Tseng, who did not care for decorations, found this was the only time of the year when Midgar approached an appearance that could be called 'nice'.

Once he entered Shinra Tower, there would be no escape anymore. Christmas was going to hit him straight in the face from the giant, abundantly decorated Christmas trees in the lobby to the tawdry display of a singing and mechanically dancing Santa Heidegger put up in the staff kitchen _every single_ year. His disdain must have been showing on his face because neither the employees in the parking lot nor the Santa hats wearing receptionists dared speak to him. Tseng tried tuning out the cheesy Christmas songs that were played in the elevator while he waited to reach the 69 th floor _to get the hell out of here_. Only, that there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

 _Shoot me._

Tseng sighed and closed his eyes, inwardly wishing the old lady singing of cinnamon cookies and baked apples overhead to die a swift, but painful death. It was not that he hated the holiday in particular, he hated the whole rigmarole surrounding it. The tacky lights and cheesy decorations, the forced happiness, the never ending gatherings and plastic smiles. Radio and TV only knew reflection, joy and love. It was his personal nightmare. The fact that he held no cultural attachment to the holiday only made it worse. In Wutai, Christmas had been largely unknown, the people celebrated the New Year instead and in a much less kitschy fashion. As a child, Tseng had enjoyed the festivities with the rich fireworks and abundance of food cooked especially for the occasion. These days were certainly the most positive recollections of his time in his home country. After Wutai had been defeated in the war Eastern culture had started to creep in and nowadays, Christmas trees and chubby cherubs were easily located, especially in the capital.

The chime of the elevator signaled to Tseng that he had to exit his Christmas song-filled metal cocoon and walk into the pits of hell. Maybe he was being slightly dramatic in his head but he had seen enough Christmas parties to justify his dread. A radio station was blaring more cheesy Christmas songs through the halls and Tseng could hear loud conversations and laughter, the source presumably being the staffroom. Over the conversations, Reno hollered profanities at a ladder. On every other day of the year, Tseng would have run to check if this was _really_ Reno in the staffroom because Reno _never_ arrived at work before his boss. Not even when Tseng stayed at Reno’s place or vice versa. The miracle happened only once a year, on exactly this day. The commander stepped into the room where all his employees were sitting either on the sofa, drinking coffee or climbing ladders and chairs to put up decorations. Lights and silver tinsel adorned a large Nordmann fir and one of the female Turks was currently in the process of adding candy canes to the excess. A Christmas flower arrangement in traditional red and green throned on one of the tables and a large box on the floor promised more to come. All the Turkes had pinned a small branch of holly to their suit jacket and some wore ridiculous headgear. Tseng sighed inwardly and cleared his throat loudly, so that finally they all would turn around and acknowledge his presence.

“May I remind you,” Tseng stated coolly, “that the party is scheduled for the _evening_ which means that you all have work to do until then.” At least the rookies had the decency to look troubled. The rest did not look half as fazed. They knew the ordeal.

“Aw, bossman! C’mon, don’t be such a party pooper!” Reno grinned up to him from the floor. The plush reindeer antlers on his head that he wore instead of his goggles undid every air of _assassin_ the redhead possessed. Tseng decided to glare him down.

“Get to work”, Tseng replied nonchalantly and wandered off to his office. In there, it was comfortingly sterile and un-Christmas-like. He sank down into his chair and cursed the next second because he had forgotten to get coffee. But he would not go back into that room. There was no chance that any of the older Turks would work today, simply because they knew Tseng was lenient on the day of the party – without admitting it of course. They were not sure why Tseng was lenient when he hated Christmas so much and he sure as hell was not going to tell. His reason was as simple as it was personal: Reno. His lover adored Christmas. Reno’s childhood in the slums had been rough, he was an orphan and had never celebrated himself, he always had to watch others decorating their houses, giving presents to each other and gathering loved ones around them. The orphan groups had been far too occupied with plain survival to consider celebrating. Now on the plate, where he did not have to worry about food, shelter, money or clothing, Reno apparently wanted to make up for his lost childhood, at least a little. And Tseng let him, no matter how much it grated on his nerves. It was a small price to pay.

****

Much to his dismay, the day seemed to go by much faster than usual. Tseng silently cursed the clock on his desk when one of the rookies who had not dared not to work delivered a few sloppily executed reports, announcing the end of the work day with a bright smile. For that smile alone the commander had his subordinate deliver him the cup of coffee he had been craving all day. After the steaming beverage had found its way onto Tseng's desk, the rookie hastily scrambled out of his boss' office before he could be given any more tasks. As soon as the door fell shut, Tseng indulged in a sip of the drink while slightly loosening his silk tie with the other hand. Now with caffeine coursing through his system, he could stomach to open the document on his tablet computer that contained tonight's guest list and once again, he felt inclined to pull the trigger on himself. At Shinra, the departments held their own Christmas parties and the high executives visited only the most important ones, namely SOLDIER, Science Department and Administrative Research, how the Turks were officially called. The executives present meant that Tseng could not just skip the festivities. He would be expected to listen to egomaniacs tooting their own horns all night, all the while nodding politely. The President and Rufus were the most tolerable out of the bunch – and that was saying something. The thought of a drunk Scarlet already gave him a headache.

When a knock on his door echoed an hour later, Tseng felt tempted to hide under his abomination of a desk. Too bad that Rude had stuck his head into the door before the commander could seriously consider the move.

“Boss, the show's about to start. Heidegger's already on his way up. Thought you might want to be there when he arrives,” the bald man announced. Somebody really had put a tinsel halo on his head, and Tseng was willing to bet it had been Reno. Nobody but him got away with making Rude look ridiculous.

“Welcome to hell”, Tseng muttered under his breath, straightened his tie again and followed Rude out of his office to the large conference room.

Tseng wished his subordinates paid half as much attention to the reports as they did on the decorations of the place. It was a glorious orgy of red, gold, silver and green. Christmas themed plants such as holly, mistletoe and  poinsettia had been placed on tables covered by dark red cloth which also carried the buffet the Shinra kitchen staff had whipped up for the occasion. Two large firs were barely visible under all the Christmas bulbs and candles, a radio was playing Christmas songs and the place smelled like a Christmas themed spice bazaar.

A little less self-control and Tseng would have flinched when the distinct, roaring laughter that was Heidegger's suddenly echoed through the room. He hated the man and his arrogance but naturally, he had to turn around and nod politely instead of placing the barrel of his gun between Heidegger's eyes. “Welcome, Mister Heidegger. It's a pleasure to see you have decided to celebrate with us.”

As usual, the annoying man's hand was sweaty when Tseng shook it in greeting. “Well, well, I can't miss the mulled wine, the Turks make the best after all! And I have to share the holiday spirit with my department, haven't I? Not that you Wutainese really get the spirit, right?” More hollering laughter accompanied the last remark.

 _Racist asshole_. Tseng smiled his coldest smile at what was technically his superior and then proceeded to lead Heidegger to the buffet. Out of the corner of his eye, Tseng could see Reno whose eyes had taken on a malicious glimmer while watching Heidegger. Obviously, he had heard the racist jab. The Turk commander sighed inwardly, deciding that he needed some of that mulled wine. This was going to be a long night.

****

Tseng did not even bother checking the clock when he entered the safe, sterile confines of his apartment later that night. It had taken him much longer to escape the festivities than he would have liked. Heidegger had continued to crack jokes about Wutainese and boasted about how much the Department of Administrative Research had flourished under his care. The old hag Scarlet had gotten drunk quickly, sauntering around in the atrocity of a red dress and continuously hitting on Reno – his hair obviously awakened instincts Tseng and anyone else would rather see suppressed. Rufus Shinra spent most of the night in a corner, very preoccupied with carrying a Champagne flute, being pretty and staying far away from his father. Old man Shinra meanwhile paraded around, engaging anyone around him in conversation. Not to mention the ass-kissing bunch of Shinra benefactors, creepy scientists and greedy engineers.

The leader of the Turks allowed himself a rare sigh, getting rid of his tie and suit jacket on the way to his couch. He needed his peace and silence now. _And a glass of Whiskey_. He stopped at the bar to pour himself a drink, then flopped down on the cushions and propped his feet up on the coffee table – for once not caring about improper use of furniture. The Christmas parties wore him out more than any mission ever could.

Just when he had taken a deep breath in enjoying his solitude, he heard keys turning the door lock. Only one other person had access to his apartment – Reno. As usual, he entered rather noisily; it was hard to believe that Reno could move with feline grace on the job. He heard him kick his shoes into a corner and shuffle around with his coat. Tseng sent a silent prayer to Leviathan that his lover would not utter the word 'Christmas' at least for the rest of the night. The fact that he had never been a great believer already made him suspect this prayer would go unanswered. Once the red-haired Turk entered the living room, Tseng looked up from his shot of Bourbon. _Oh dear._ Reno was still wearing the ridiculous reindeer antlers, a box firmly tucked under his right arm. Tseng spotted a piece of tinsel garland peeking out of the lid and frowned at his lover.

“I don't think so,” he said warningly. The glint in Reno's emerald eyes said it all.

Apparently, the other had hoped for something different than outright denial. “Come on!” Reno tried to melt his resistance with his trademark grin. But Tseng had enough practice from countless years of working with the redhead to brush off the charming smiles he distributed like candy.

“No,” Tseng refuted firmly. This was not up for discussion. _Do not make my headache worse._

“Tseeeeng,” Reno whined. The kicked puppy look. That one was much harder to resist because Reno employed it much less. It gave Tseng trouble playing the role of the commander.

“No, Reno. You can turn your own apartment into a clone of Santa Claus' village for all I care, but that stuff is not going to touch the inside of mine.” It was not much of an exaggeration. On some years, Reno managed an orgy of Yule décor and Christmas ornaments which could turn any department store green with envy

Reno was not ready to give up yet, determination still visible in the bright irises. “I thought I was spendin' the days off here, yo?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. A muscle in Tseng's jaw consequently twitched when he heard the loathed “yo”. Around Tseng, Reno was usually careful not to use the interjection, perfectly aware how much his lover hated it when he talked “like an imbecile slum rat.” Not the slum rat part, Tseng knew Reno had not gotten much of an education under the plate and did not mind the causal manner of speaking which was an element of Reno's personality. But the “yo” made him sound like an idiot Reno definitely was not.

“That was the plan,” the commander confirmed, taking a sip of Whiskey from the tumbler.

“Then tell me what decorations in my apartment are good for when I'm not gonna be there, bossman.” He had a point there. Not that Tseng was going to admit it to Reno's face. _Can't you just let it go?_

They took turns at staying at the other's apartment over the holidays. The years spent at Reno's place, Tseng usually endured the ornamental debauchery he was subject to with near endless patience, perhaps sneaking in one or two snide remarks when he found glitter in his coffee or Rudolph made a dive from the shelves into the pot with hot spaghetti sauce. In exchange, all Tseng wanted was Reno to restrain himself from turning his apartment into a copy of Santa's village the following year. But Reno was not labeled as hardheaded just for the hell of it.

“Reno, for the last time: I do not want tacky Christmas decorations all over my apartment. They're as tasteless as they are useless.” Tseng forced steel into his eyes in hopes that Reno would lay off the argument.

Normally, the ice cold glance would unsettle Reno. He had been with the Wutainese  for years now but Tseng could still manage to make Reno wanting to go crawl under a rock with the steel gaze. The knowledge that his lover had a passionate nature with a number of soft spots and was not just simply a killing machine did not help it. His boss could scare anyone, even the almighty President.  Today however, Reno was not afraid of the glare that would freeze even Ifrit to a block of ice. An idea had just popped up in his head.

“Useless you say, huh?” Reno asked, keeping a straight face.

“Yes, very much so. They are just cluttering the place.” There was finality in his boss' voice, a sign that he wanted the discussion over and done with. He probably wanted to prop his legs up on the coffee table, sip on the Whiskey and idly comb through Reno's messy spikes in his lap with his fingers. Usually, Reno would not object to these intentions but the idea in his head kept him from putting down the cardboard box and join his lover on the lush sofa. He grabbed Tseng's wrist with his free hand and dragged him into a standing position.

“What now?” The skin on the bridge of Tseng's nose crinkled.  His patience was wearing thin. He just wanted to drink his Whiskey in peace and possibly have his way with Reno later in bed. If it shut him up about Christmas, he would even let the redhead wear the stupid antlers.

Reno chose not to answer and dragged his reluctant commander towards the staircase and up to the second floor, heading straight for the bedroom. Only when the door had closed behind them, Reno let go of Tseng's wrist and flick on the dim lights. The box was placed next to the bed before he turned and looked determinedly into Tseng's dark gray eyes. The black haired Turk hardly got the chance to put down his glass on a drawer when Reno pushed him roughly onto the king sized bed. Tseng wanted to protest, but decided against it and settled for raising a curious eyebrow at the loudmouth Turk who had sat down on the edge of the bed, rummaging noisily through the box.

“Reno, what in Leviathan's name–”

“Gotcha!” Reno exclaimed happily, effectively cutting Tseng off. Apparently, he was not even paying attention to his lover's words. He sat up straight, grinning at the object he had pulled from the depths of the cardboard. Dangling from his hand were holiday lights with small clear and red bulbs; the kind you normally put on the tree. Tseng's eyebrow twitched nervously. _What the...?_

Reno put the lights on the nightstand, then turned to face the confused Wutainese . As if he had just noticed the other's presence, Reno's deep green eyes switched from innocent joy to a hot, hungry gaze, letting it wander down the perfectly defined body currently lounging on the crisp sheets. Within the blink of an eye, Reno was straddling Tseng's waist, bending down and hungrily devouring the other's lips in a passionate kiss. Tseng was a little startled at the sudden change of atmosphere but he certainly preferred this to arguing over lights, mistletoe and snowmen. As his eyelids fluttered shut and his lips granted Reno's eager tongue entrance, he already felt his lover's nimble fingers working on the buttons of his white dress shirt and wondered if the other had an ulterior motive in mind.

 _Does he think he can talk me into letting him decorate the apartment if we have sex first?  Or does he want to get me to fall asleep so I can't stop him?_ There had to be a motive. His commander brain demanded suspiciousness at Reno's cryptic actions. This Turk was not to be fooled with.

Tseng broke the kiss and tried to push himself up on his elbows to demand answers but found that he could not. He blinked confusedly and made a second attempt. In vain. His eyes darted to Reno hovering above him, licking his lips and thoroughly looking smug. The Turk commander craned his neck to get a look at his hands above him and blinked again. In the short moments Tseng had let his mind drift, Reno had taken off his shirt and securely tied his hands and wrists to the headboard with the holiday lights formerly on the nightstand.

 _How on Gaia...?_ Tseng asked himself, still feeling dumbfounded. If he thought about it, it was not _that_ surprising. Only a Turk could con another Turk. Furthermore, Reno's speed _was_ legendary. But no matter how good the opponent, Tseng hated being bested.

“You little bastard,” he hissed at his still smirking second-in-command.

“Oh, you know you love it,” Reno replied in his cocky manner, raking his fingernails across Tseng's pale chest and abs, drawing a gasp from him.

He was not too worried about the sputtering Wutainese below him. The technique he had used to bind Tseng was fairly secure though his boss very likely _could_ get out if them if he wanted to. More assurance was given by the fact that Tseng _liked_ bondage and preferred being bound to binding. Nobody would believe Reno if he ever told anyone that the cool, detached commander of Shinra's group of hitmen was a kinky, submissive bastard. Not that Reno _would_ tell anyone. But he took pride in his intimate knowledge of Tseng regardless. His lover guarded his private life like a hawk and sharing details of not only his desires but also his past and personality was the greatest gift he bestowed upon the ones he trusted.

His objective gradually ceased struggling but continued glaring at him. There were times when Reno froze under that gaze but Tseng's by now noticeable arousal nullified any effect.

“Unhand me,” Tseng demanded, his command less sharp than usual.

“No.”

“Reno...” The Wutainese growled, the measured tones slipping and the slight accent from his home territory seeping in. Normally, Tseng carefully covered the dialect because his pronunciation differed when he did not. To Reno, it was a sign that he let his walls down, thus ignoring the weak threats and proceeded to taking the remainders of Tseng's clothing and his own off unceremoniously. Getting naked was not the main objective, no need to make a big show about it.

The redhead crouched down next to the box on the traditional Wutainese bamboo mat floor and dug through the contents again, on the hunt for a specific object. Thankfully, it was easy to locate. _There you are._ The desired item was a cheap large, red pillar candle for arrangements or an Advent wreath. Reno put the candle on the nightstand, grabbing the lighter from the pocket of his suit pants on the floor and lit the candle. He crawled back on the bed into his former position on Tseng's hips.

All the while, Tseng eyed the red candle suspiciously, the flickering light casting a warm golden shadow on his and Reno's pale skin in the dim room. Was that an attempt at romance? Reno was not really on the romantic side of life, just like Tseng. Did he want to demonstrate that decorations would not disturb the normal course of action? His train of thought was abruptly halted by sharp teeth on his nipples. Tseng hissed in surging arousal, attention snapping back to Reno who was busying himself with nipping and flicking his tongue at the sensitive nub. He restrained himself from arching his back into the teasing, determined to not give up completely. It did not matter it was futile resistance; he had his pride, too.

Reno meanwhile was thoroughly satisfied with the course of action, smirking to himself while mapping the soft skin with eager tongue and lips. Tseng drew in a breath when he dipped his tongue into his bellybutton, another easily affected spot on the exotic body. Only when Reno slightly scraped his teeth along the protruding hipbones of his lover, he finally got a quiet moan. The hipbones always managed to win Tseng over, they were Reno’s secret weapon when the other was pouting or holding back out of spite. He probably cursed himself repeatedly for having such a weak spot and enjoying it all at the same time. Reno ravished the bones some more with his teeth and a soothing tongue, drawing more pants and moans from the man below his hands, slowly trailing his tongue lower to the groin and carefully avoiding the erection just inches away from his face. Tseng was staring down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, screwing them shut when one of Reno’s ministrations made a current run though his spine.

Just when Reno made advances to finally wrap his lips around Tseng's straining arousal, he moved away again, straightening his back. It caused the one below to groan in frustration of denied pleasure, digging fingernails into his palms. A devious smirk played around the corners of Reno's mouth while he observed the reaction. Getting Tseng all riled was exactly what he wanted. His cheeks were lightly flushed, tinting them a pale pink. The ink colored silken hair was deliciously disheveled, fanning out on the pillow free from the usual confines of a ponytail or slick. These glorious strands had given Reno a severe obsession he loved to indulge in as often as possible. His lover's chest was rising and falling in pent-up desire, releasing soft pants from full lips. _I want a picture of that in my wallet, I swear,_ Reno thought.

Reno made a point of teasingly scraping one of Tseng's now overly sensitized nipples as he reached across the nightstand to grab the burning candle. It was not as soft as it was usually supposed to for what Reno had in mind but he did not worry. Though the candle was burning at a rather high temperature due to the additives, Turks were trained to endure red-hot pokers without even flinching. This was nothing. Reno glimpsed down at Tseng who looked like it dawned on him what his red-haired lover had in mind. Surprise in Tseng's eye soon gave way to a new onslaught of lust, making Reno smile victoriously. The commander spoke volumes with his eyes, the rest of his body language mostly impassive. Over the years, Reno had learned the subtleties of the steel gaze that gave far more away than anyone thought.

Reno mentally high-fived himself for his correct observation: _Knew ya'd be intrigued by wax._ He had often seen Tseng dip his fingers into the small pool of cooling wax below the wick when a candle had been blown out within arm's reach. He'd observe the hardening substance on his fingertips until it had cooled off completely before he slowly peeled it off, just to repeat again with a second layer.

At that thought, Reno licked his lips. Wax had intrigued him for a good while now and having his bound lover at his mercy made it all the more exciting. His cock twitched at the prospects. Reno waited until Tseng had nodded his approval before he tilted the candle enough for a few drops of red, hot wax to drip onto the center of Tseng's chest. A gasp escaped Tseng's mouth. The droplets of wax were hot, not enough to hurt but deliciously burning the sensitive skin after which they would abruptly start to dry, adding a new sensation.

Motivated by the positive response, Reno moved his hand more to the side of Tseng's torso, letting more wax escape from the lit candle. It was slowly running down his ribs, leaving a red trail on the white skin until the drop came to a halt. Tseng closed his eyes at the sensation of candle wax traveling sluggishly across his body. _Entirely delightful_ , he thought, the unusual stimulation adding to his already very prominent arousal. Keeping his eyes closed only heightened the experience as he did not know where and when the next drops would land, unable to prepare for the impact.

Reno was fascinated by the spectacle below his body as he let more and more red wax dribble on the perfect body Tseng possessed. Tseng kept his eyes closed, arching into the ministrations and filling the room with quiet gasps, pants and moans. The ordeal was a sign of explicit trust. Turks were notoriously suspicious and leaving himself bound and vulnerable to the other, even voluntarily blinding himself was not something the Turk commander did with anyone. Except Reno who cherished the gift beyond words. _Thank you._ Being able to do this was not something he took for granted, his lust-clouded mind registered the intimate exchange between them. You had to squash every Turk instinct in you that normally told you to fight and run in face of binds and burning objects to be used on your body.

After the vast majority of Tseng's chest and stomach were covered in deep reed wax, cynically looking like drops and trails of blood with a little imagination – _Kinda appropriate for a Turk, huh?_  – Reno moved to  ooze the lethargic mass right below the binds. Red wax gradually traveled down the sensitive skin of the inner arm, eliciting a louder moan from the Wutainese. The sudden change from cold to hot and back to cold galvanized his senses unlike anything else, the hot trail drying on his skin, leaving behind a pleasant ache he desperately wanted more of.

And more he got. More wax trickled down both his arms, each layer crawling over delicate surface far away from becoming boring. Reno still was not done, he slid down Tseng's torso, positioning himself between creamy thighs and tilting the candle anew, hot wax covering the even more sensitive skin of the insides. The raven-haired's eyes shot open, he was releasing involuntary jerks and sounds of thinly veiled lust. Tseng's eyes were smothering, something hardly anybody believed him capable of.

 

 _Just wait for act two, it's gonna blow ya mind,_ Reno thought with a smirk and kept on spreading more wax. Tseng's lustful moans and writhing brought Reno's own arousal to a whole new level but he was determined not to rush this. The lessons in self-restraint Tseng had hammered into his head apparently were not entirely futile. On the job, Tseng would have commended him for such worthy display of Turk virtues.

 

Reno deliberately let a few droplets fall onto his boss' erection and nipples, said man straining against his binds as a result. His brain was probably close to overkill, but Reno did not do things 'half-assed' — he would get the other to meltdown level.

 

When finally Tseng was broadly covered in rich scarlet, Reno admired his handiwork. The blood red streaks a stark contrast to the fair skin and cheeks flushed in nearly the same color, Tseng resembled a piece of art. Reno felt almost sorry for the oncoming destruction.

 

He did not even let Tseng catch his breath but directly started peeling the layers of wax off the chest, scraping at the material and skin with blunt fingernails. The tissue underneath was pink from the heat and light irritation. Removing itself was already an additional phenomenon, Tseng found, nerve endings tingling with sensory upheaval. Just when he thought it could not get any better, he was reminded that he should never underestimate his partner. Reno bent down to start licking and scraping teeth against the newly exposed patches of hypersensitized skin. Tseng very much threw propriety right out of the window. It was too much. His back arched off the bed, openly begging for more and to his relief, Reno kept teasing to a minimum — for his own sake, too, the redhead did not want to drag things out forever.

 

Gradually, Reno revealed more and more delicate flesh, mapping it with eager tongue and teeth. When he arrived at the thighs, Tseng was already on the edge of release. He shivered when Reno nipped at the skin there, his cock leaking glistening drops of precum. Reno knew he did not have to do much anymore to push Tseng over the edge so  he pressed on with his ministrations, peeled off the bits of wax clinging to the Wutainese's arousal who let out a hiss and moan at the simple touch. Reno smirked and licked Tseng's cock from root to tip before he swallowed him down in one swift motion. It was all it took for Tseng to come violently, shuddering and forsaking his usually quiet peaks for spilling Reno's name from his lips repeatedly.

 

Reno drank down Tseng's release, sat up and wiped the last bit of the other's evidence of pleasure from the corner of his mouth. Tseng's chest was heaving and he panted loudly while he stared at his lover with a heated gaze. Reno's own eyes were clouded over with raw desire and he looked completely smug.

 

"See," Reno said huskily, "Christmas decorations can be pretty damn useful."

 

When the redhead then went diving for the lube, Tseng found he could not argue.

 


End file.
